


Sparring Partners

by sanctuary_for_all



Series: Home and Family [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-11
Updated: 2014-09-13
Packaged: 2018-02-16 22:55:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2287499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanctuary_for_all/pseuds/sanctuary_for_all
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They need to learn to stop treating each other like they're breakable.</p><p>Of course, that doesn't mean that there aren't still plenty of breakable bits left. </p><p>(Post "Captain America: The Winter Soldier")</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Then

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea how long this will be, mostly because I have no idea what I'm doing. But the plot bunny wouldn't go away, and it's too long to stick in with my other "Collecting Memories" one-shots.

_The memories with Steve in them are almost always clearer than the ones without. Mostly, Bucky is grateful for that, since there seems to be precious few of the memories worth keeping that don't have Steve in them somewhere. He does feel guilty sometimes that his parents and Becca don't have the same effect – it feels disloyal, somehow – but there are so many other things to feel guilty about that it usually becomes lost in the shuffle._

_Bucky hopes that they would forgive him, if they knew._

_He doesn't remember how old he and Steve are, in this one – Sam said that specific years blend together, even in normal people's memories, and Steve was so small in those days that the lines of his face don't help at all. He knows that they're at his house, the smell of cinnamon wafting in from the kitchen, and Bucky is trying and failing to teach Steve how to fight._

_"You're swinging your arm too wide." He mimes the punch again, following through slowly before his fist comes to rest lightly against Steve's stomach. "If you want any chance of hurting the other guy, you've gotta put as much of your weight behind it as you can."_

_Bucky's gotten pretty good at fighting, these last few years. Every punch he throws is one Steve doesn't have to take._

_Steve watches, following through as best he can, but with these practice hits Bucky can't tell if they'll do any good. Steve doesn't have a lot of weight to put behind them in the first place._

_From the frustrated look on his face, he knows it, too. "This'll never help, Buck, and you know it." He sounded angry and defeated all at once, taking a real swing that Bucky caught easily. Damn it, he'd been right._

_Steve's shoulders sag, his hands dropping to his sides an instant later. "Never mind." He tries a smile, the one that only came out when he was really miserable and thought he had to hide it. Bucky hates that smile. "Thanks for trying."_

_Bucky just stares at him a moment, knowing this was unacceptable but not at all sure how to fix it. He didn't know if he could ever make Steve ready to defend himself against bigger kids – which was all of them, at this point – and Steve refused to just stay safe and let Bucky take care of all the fighting._

_There's one thing he can do, though. "Okay, new plan." He grins suddenly, Steve's only warning before Bucky launches himself at his best friend. "Tickle fight!"_

_Bucky's momentum carries them both to the couch, exactly where he'd aimed them, though Steve hits it harder than either of their mothers would like. He's not rattled at all, though, going straight for Bucky's armpits like he's been getting lessons from Becca. Bucky's pretty good at keeping his arms flat against his sides – one of the first lessons you learn, with a big sister – but Steve's got nimble fingers and a bloody-minded determination to make Bucky cry uncle._

_Steve's ticklish in more places than Bucky is – all along the ribs, as well as the armpits, and sometimes even the backs of his knees will make him giggle if Bucky can do it just right. This time he manages it, hooking a leg so Steve can't squirm away, but the movement exposes Bucky's weak spot and Steve takes full advantage. Pretty soon they're both laughing, spouting ridiculous threats that always end up trailing off into a new fit of giggles._

_Bucky's distracted enough that he doesn't notice the first wheeze. By the time he hears the second one it's become a full fit, and the tickle fight stops immediately as Steve curls into a fetal position and reminds himself how to breathe. Bucky's right there next to him, rubbing his back and mad at himself for missing it, though he waves his mother off when she appears in the doorway._

_By the time Steve can speak again, he's scowling. "I_ hate _this," he manages, pressing a hand against his chest like he can force his lungs to behave._

_Bucky hooks an arm around his neck, pulling him closer. "I'm sorry."_

_Steve turns the glare on him. "Don't you dare feel guilty about this." He straightens carefully, testing whether or not he can. "You and mom are the only ones who don't treat me like I'm breakable."_

_Steve_ is _breakable, and if anything ever happened to him Bucky has no idea what he would do. He's learned by now, though, not to say things like that. "That's only because I know how vicious you are at tickle fighting."_

_Steve grins at him, bright and happy, and dives for his armpits again._


	2. Now

It wasn't something he liked to admit, but sometimes the absence of Bucky in the bed was enough to wake Steve up. He'd been expecting it, this time – Bucky had been restless ever since he and Clint had come back from shooting practice – but that didn't stop the brief sense of longing before he opened his eyes and scanned the darkness of their motel room.

What he didn't expect was to find his best friend at the foot of the bed, shadow fighting with a speed and ferocity Steve didn't remember seeing from him even during the war. Bucky was far too controlled for it to be a nightmare, restricting himself to hand-to-hand combat and occasionally whipping around as if an invisible enemy was coming at him from another direction. It was lightning quick, deadly, and utterly beautiful enough that Steve felt his breath go for a moment.

Bucky's next turn stopped halfway around, body jerking to a sudden enough halt that it was clear he knew that Steve was awake. His hands dropped to his sides, the deadly precision melting out of him, and he rubbed the side of his neck as if embarrassed at having been caught. "Sorry," he murmured. "Couldn't sleep."

"I could see that." Steve pushed himself up into a sitting position. "You looked...." He cleared his throat, not able to find the words he needed.

Bucky went still. "Terrifying?" He'd tried to make it sound like it was a joke, but Steve could hear the uncertainty beneath it.

"No, of course not," he said quickly, worry that he wasn't saying it right disappearing under the need to reassure. "You looked ... beautiful."

Bucky made a small sound, half surprise and half protest, then a second later his muscles eased that last half-step. "You're an idiot," he murmured, voice soft with affection.

Steve smiled, . "So I've been told." He scooted over slightly, an obvious  invitation for Bucky to get back on his side of the bed. After a moment, Bucky started to oblige. "You can do that when we're awake, too, you know. Clint and Natasha won't mind."

Bucky hesitated, no longer moving closer, and Steve fought the brief, selfish urge to grab his best friend's hand and simply tug him across the remaining distance. Then Bucky sighed, sounding tired in a way that had nothing to do with the time of night, and Steve pushed everything else aside. "I don't ... it's ...." Bucky sighed. "I should be training, somehow. Getting ready." He looked back at Steve, something fragile threading beneath the words. "This is the first mission in a long time that I've actually _wanted_."

Steve swallowed, his own chest constricting. "You watched my back just fine when those guys attacked us, Buck."

Bucky shook his head. "I remember training with the commandos. I can see your new training every time you move, the same way I can with Clint and Natasha. But me ...." He lifted his hands, briefly. "I don't remember anything like practice when I was the Winter Soldier. They would...."

He stopped again, clearly holding himself back, and Steve gave in and moved closer to Bucky. His stomach twisted, but he'd told himself since the beginning that he'd listen to any memory Bucky had, no matter how horrible it was, if it was what he needed. Simply hearing about it was nothing compared to being forced to live through it. "Tell me, Buck. I won't break."

There was a moment of silence, then Bucky sighed again. "Maybe not," he said finally, sounding plaintive but somehow easier than he had been. "But why do you have to keep _testing_ that?"

The weight of memory had slipped away, for a moment, and Steve was happy to let it rest. "You know me," he said lightly, catching the edge of Bucky's shirt and giving it a gentle tug. "I've always gotta be where you are."

"Funny," Bucky murmured. "I've been following you." Then he let himself be pulled, dropping down onto his side of the bed as he raised his voice back to a normal volume. "I'm serious about the training, though. I'd spar with Natasha, but I'm pretty sure she'd kill me."

Something a little too close to jealousy twisted Steve's gut. It was ridiculous – he himself had sparred with Natasha just today, when she'd been trying to distract him from his worry about Bucky – but it hurt that he wasn't Bucky's first option for partner. He remembered them wrestling as kids, the sheer triumph Steve had felt when he'd make him laugh, and the glint of playful challenge in Bucky's eyes whenever they'd sparred during the war. It was selfish of him, but it was one more thing he'd hoped he'd get back.

Even more selfish, though, was the simple fact that he always wanted to be Bucky's first choice. After all, Bucky was always going to be his.

The words slipped out of his mouth without getting permission from his brain. "I think I could manage to hold myself back."

He could feel the tension snap through Bucky, and he regretted the words the moment they left his mouth. Bucky just stared at him, eyes wide and white in the dark. "I tried to kill you," he said finally, voice suddenly rough. "Do you not remember that?"

It was only then that the implication hit Steve. "Flashbacks." He winced. "I didn't think how hard that would be for you."  Pushing his own disappointment aside, he caught Bucky's hand in his. "You're right. It's a stupid idea."

Bucky was still staring at him. "That's not what I...." Then he stopped, closing his eyes a moment as his fingers tightened around Steve's. "You really were okay with seeing me like that. Before, when you woke up."

Steve watched his face. "I always like looking at you, Buck," he said softly.

Bucky opened his eyes again, giving Steve his own searching look. Then he leaned in for a kiss, and there was no more need for words.

**Author's Note:**

> Come check out my weekly posts and original short fiction on my [blog](http://jennifferwardell.blogspot.com) or say hi to me on [Tumblr](http://sanctuaryforalluniverses.tumblr.com)!


End file.
